<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>fit for a king by mysterymistakes</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26255851">fit for a king</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysterymistakes/pseuds/mysterymistakes'>mysterymistakes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, M/M, Praise Kink, Royal Feasts, Teasing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:35:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,163</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26255851</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysterymistakes/pseuds/mysterymistakes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dimitri can hear the clink of Sylvain’s rings against his glass as he goes to take a long, pointed sip, pulling Dimitri’s focus. Sylvain’s mouth parts, plush and pretty pink. It seals against the rim. His Adam’s apple bobs, dipping to just above his collarbone and bouncing back up again. Sylvain sets his glass down. A single drop of wine slowly escapes the corner of his lips; they’re stained dark and glossy at the center. His tongue peeks out to lick up the excess, and he winks as it slips away.</p><p>The evening of Dimitri's coronation, there is a grand feast.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>91</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>fit for a king</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilacKait145/gifts">LilacKait145</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The feast on the night of Dimitri’s coronation is a grand thing.</p><p>He’s at the head of a long, dark table in a chair far too ornate for his liking. Lanterns of silver and blue float about the hall. Dishes crowd every surface, piled high and spilling over with meats and cheeses and breads of all kinds to leave barely enough place for table settings. To his left, is Felix, gnawing determinedly at a leg of lamb, and to his right, Dedue, tucked much more civilly into his. All his friends, now his advisors, his captains and his knights, line the perimeter of his table; they’re a warm and insulating barrier between the joy of this evening and the nobles that are no-doubt waiting impatiently to bend the King’s ear. Everything had gone seamlessly (astonishing, if you were to ask him, given his general track record with all things <em>delicate</em> and <em>formal</em>), and now his only responsibility is to enjoy himself. Dimitri’s glass is filled again with wine. His gaze sweeps around the table as he sips on it, contentedly taking stock of his friends- Annette and Mercedes are breaking apart some of the sweetbuns that had made their way in front of them to debate the recipe. Ingrid is talking at Felix about how he should really eat something <em>green</em> for once in his life, but it just floats in one ear and out the other as he starts to work his way through a second, much more formidable piece of meat. To Dedue’s right, Ashe chatters excitedly about the royal gardens, and their soft smiles warm Dimitri’s heart. His friends are <em>here,</em> they are <em>safe</em> and <em>with him.</em></p><p>Sylvain catches Dimitri’s eye.</p><p>He looks absolutely ravishing. He’s traded his armor (which had been cleaned and polished and he’d worn it <em>glowing</em> with pride) for something looser, more comfortable; he’s donned a velveteen tunic that matches the evening’s choice of drink, a deep red with a deeper neck, a thing loosely laced together that comes to a point halfway down his chest and tucked into a pair of well-fit pants that accentuate his slim waist. His hair is styled, tousled just so, and Dimitri can hear the <em>clink</em> of Sylvain’s rings against his glass as he goes to take a long, pointed sip, pulling Dimitri’s focus. Sylvain’s mouth parts, plush and pretty pink. It seals against the rim. His Adam’s apple bobs, dipping to just above his collarbone and bouncing back up again. Sylvain sets his glass down. A single drop of wine slowly escapes the corner of his lips; they’re stained dark and glossy at the center. His tongue peeks out to lick up the excess, and he winks as it slips away.</p><p>There’s heat curling fast and insistent in the pit of Dimitri’s stomach, mixing with the wine and riding the high of the evening to set his nerves alight. It makes his skin feel like it’s stretched too tight over his frame and it turns his gaze hungry. He watches Sylvain’s long fingers drum against the stem of the glass. Maybe it’s the wine talking (<em>it’s not,</em> something that sounds suspiciously like Felix tells him), but Dimitri wants nothing more to pluck Sylvain from his seat and carry him back to his chambers and-</p><p>“That’s enough,” Felix quips, “my dinner is going to go to waste if you say anything else.” The look he gives Dimitri is barely accusatory. There’s a flush on his cheeks and a slur to his words.</p><p>“Ah,” says Dimitri, in a very kingly way. Silence stretches between them amid a dull roar.</p><p>“Well?” Felix grouses, between tearing chunks from a leg of turkey, “He heard you, so now you have to make good on your promise, because if you don’t, I’ll never hear the end of it, and I already know <em>so much more</em> than I ever wanted to and I-” There’s a distinct thump underneath the table. Felix shuts his mouth fast enough that he bites his tongue. Ingrid does her level best not to look smug about it.</p><p>“Go,” she says. “It’s your coronation night.” She claps a particularly firm hand on Felix’s shoulder. “We’ll be <em>fine.</em>” The embarrassment that should be creeping through Dimitri is nowhere to be found. Instead, he laughs, low and hearty and content.</p><p>A hush falls across the crowd as he stands.</p><p>“At ease.” Dimitri booms. He makes his way behind Sylvain, who turns around and holds his arms out, smiling wide enough that his eyes crinkle.</p><p>“Well, Your Highness? Sorry- <em>Your Majesty</em>, now, I guess.” Sylvain says. The apples of his cheeks are rosy in the lantern-light, and <em>flames</em> does Dimitri have it bad. “Going to steal me back to your chambers?”</p><p>“I believe I am.” Dimitri says, and then he does. He scoops Sylvain from his seat, an arm each at his back and under his knees, and an excited gasp sweeps through the hall. Everyone at Dimitri’s table begins to cheer, loud and raucous the way they did back when they were all classmates. Sylvain hooks his arms around Dimitri’s neck and presses his face into the crook of his shoulder. Dimitri can feel his smile, can see the embarrassed flush that rages across Sylvain’s ears as he turns on his heel and makes for his rooms. “Sorry,” he says once they’re in the hallway. Sylvain chuckles and presses a kiss to the soft skin just below the curve of Dimitri’s jaw.</p><p>“No, you’re not,” he says.</p><p>“You’re right.” Dimitri shifts Sylvain’s entire weight onto one arm, partly to open the heavy door to their destination, but mostly to see the way that it makes Sylvain’s eyes go just a little bit glassy and makes his lips fall open. “You look good enough to eat.”</p><p>“Speak for yourself,” Sylvain breathes out as he’s laid down on the rich, blue quilt of Dimitri’s enormous bed. “I was about to take matters into my own hands.”</p><p>Dimitri pulls Sylvain’s tunic free to slide his hands underneath it, pushes the velvet up and across Sylvain’s soft, warm skin until he’s free of it entirely. He roams the expanse of Sylvain’s chest, brushes his thumbs across his nipples to see the way he twitches, smooths down to the waistband of his pants and undoes the lacings. “So handsome,” Dimitri murmurs, and Sylvain shivers, breath coming a little harder. “It’s true,” Dimitri says as he discards the last of Sylvain’s clothes. “You’re so gorgeous, Sylvain. I don’t know how I keep myself from stealing you away every time I see you.” He plants kisses up Sylvain’s stomach, to his sternum. Sylvain whines underneath Dimitri’s attentions and flushes ever harder at his words. Dimitri loves to do this, to shower Sylvain in praises until he’s hard and aching and can’t stand it anymore. He reacts so beautifully to being told how good he is and how well he’s doing that Dimitri doesn’t think anyone could blame him for allowing himself such an indulgence. “During counsels, boring meetings… my mind never fails to drift to you, like this.” Sylvain throws an arm over his eyes and bites his lip, free hand twisting into the sheets. Dimitri leans over him and grinds down so it’s obvious how hard he is, how worked up Sylvain has made him. “Can you feel what you do to me, Sylvain?” Dimitri asks, rolling his hips again and watching intently as Sylvain’s slick bottom lip pulls from between his teeth. He moans, soft and delicious. Sylvain’s arm falls from his face as he squirms. His eyes are hazy, blush raging across his face and bleeding down into his neck, hair quickly falling out of its careful styling to splay on the sheets like the rest of him.</p><p>Dimitri kisses him slow and deep. His lips are plush and inviting to Dimitri’s tongue as he licks into Sylvain’s mouth. He still tastes of the round, smoky dinner wine. Sylvain’s hands come up to pull at Dimitri’s clothes. Even like this, with a tongue in his mouth and his head in the clouds, Sylvain makes quick, practiced work of Dimitri’s cloak, unclasping it and pushing it from his shoulders before going immediately for the laces of his pants. Dimitri breaks from the kiss with a groan when Sylvain’s hand finds its way to his cock, pulling it free with fast, rough strokes that drive him <em>mad.</em> Sylvain looks up at him from underneath his lashes.</p><p>“What? You were taking too long.” Sylvain says, tone mirthful. Dimitri laughs and sits back on his heels as the rest of his fine court clothes find their way to the floor.</p><p>“Such a tease.” Dimitri muses, slipping off the bed to retrieve a (mostly empty) vial of oil.</p><p>“Yeah,” Sylvain calls after him. When Dimitri turns around, Sylvain has made himself comfortable, rearranged the pillows so that he’s fully cushioned and ready to take whatever Dimitri has to give him. “You like it, though.”</p><p>Dimitri comes to rest between Sylvain’s legs again, where his cock is hard against his stomach and dripping eagerly. Before slicking up his fingers and because <em>two can play at that game,</em> Dimitri swipes a finger through the little puddle beneath the pink head. He collects the pearly precum there, brings it to his mouth and makes a show of licking it from his hand to see the way Sylvain’s eyes go dark and the way his cock drools. “No fair,” he groans. “You can’t just grab the bottle and not fill me up.”</p><p>“Oh?” says Dimitri. He dribbles the last of the oil over his fingers and doesn’t miss the way Sylvain tracks it. “You want me to fill you up, Sylvain?” He grabs a thigh with his clean hand, pushes it up against Sylvain’s side to bare him. He’s always been so flexible. “Want your <em>king</em> to split you open and fuck you full?” Sylvain moans, breathy and wanton when Dimitri slips the first slick finger past his fluttering rim. “Flames,” Dimitri groans, working in the second finger, “You’re always so <em>tight.</em>” Sylvain opens for him beautifully. By the time he’s stretched thin around three of Dimitri’s long, thick fingers, he’s trembling in his sea of pillows, breathing heavy with his toes curled and his cock leaking steadily. Dimitri presses kisses into his chest, laves his tongue across a nipple to feel Sylvain tighten around him.</p><p>“Please,” Sylvain gasps on the end of a moan, “I’m- <em>ah!</em> I’m ready, just, <em>please-</em>” Dimitri sits back up, watches Sylvain tense as he slips his fingers from that wet heat. He’s too worked up to engage in fanfare as he slicks his cock (but not too much, because Sylvain likes when there’s a little burn) and guides it to Sylvain’s hole. It’s puffy and red and he hasn’t even been properly <em>fucked</em> yet.</p><p>“May I?” Dimitri asks. He half expects Sylvain to smack at him because <em>yes of course he’s ready,</em> but he must be farther gone than Dimitri thought, because Sylvain just whines, chants out <em>yes, yes, please</em> like he’ll drop dead if Dimitri doesn’t fill him up right then and there. Dimitri presses forward.</p><p>Sylvain’s body sucks him in eagerly. Dimitri groans low and hungry as he bottoms out, head rendered foggy by the always impossibly tight, searing warmth that consumes him, spurred forward by the way Sylvain twitches and whines ever louder with each inch that’s pushed in. Dimitri braces himself with his arms on either side of Sylvain’s torso. His head hangs down as he waits for Sylvain to adjust. Sylvain rolls his hips with the tiniest, sweetest moan, and Dimitri fucks him like a man dying.</p><p>He sets a brutal pace, sucked in ever farther each time, fueled by Sylvain keening beneath him like it’s his first foray into pleasure. “<em>Sylvain,</em>” Dimitri growls, “you feel so good.” Sylvain’s cock jumps and his eyes roll back into his head, and Dimitri knows that he’s going to cum untouched. Dimitri isn’t much farther behind. Praise spills from him like a fountain. “So tight, always so good for me.” He leans down to bite at Sylvain’s salty, sweaty collarbone.</p><p>“All mine,” Dimitri growls into Sylvain’s skin. “Only for me.” It sends Sylvain over the edge. He cums hard, streaking white all over both of their stomachs and clamping down <em>hard</em> on Dimitri’s cock. It takes one, two, three more thrusts for Dimitri to follow suit, burying himself deep and painting Sylvain’s insides with his spend.</p><p>Dimitri pulls out, watches himself leak out from Sylvain’s abused hole and drip down to stain the sheets. He files away the idea of procuring something to plug it up and drops down next to Sylvain.</p><p>“Hey there, <em>Your Majesty</em>.” Sylvain mumbles as he turns to face Dimitri. He looks relaxed, sweaty and fucked-out, and Dimitri thinks he’s beautiful. Dimitri scoots forward to kiss Sylvain’s forehead, but by the time he’s pulled back, Sylvain has drifted off.</p><p>They’ll clean up in the morning.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank u so much to kait for commissioning this! </p><p>i can be found on <a href="https://twitter.com/mysterymistakes">twitter</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>